


Security blanket

by fullmoon02



Category: Blitz (2011)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Night, Trick or Treat: Chocolate Box
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 20:01:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12349671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullmoon02/pseuds/fullmoon02
Summary: A knock on the door in the middle of the night. Sounds like Brant needs some company. He is not the only one.





	Security blanket

**Author's Note:**

  * For [linndechir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/linndechir/gifts).



Normally, a knock on the door in the middle of the night should go ignored. This knocking, however, had a recognizable pattern. With a sigh, Nash put his drink down and walked to the door.

“You could ring ahead, you know,” he muttered when opening the door. Brant looked at him with a quirked eyebrow, a sign of amusement hidden in frustration.

“I guess I could, yeah”, Brant said, pushing himself inside.

Nash closed the door and, his back still on Brant, muttered: “Make yourself at home.”

Brant did, pouring himself a drink.

“For what do I owe this pleasure?”

Instead of answering, Brant inclined his head towards Nash’s shirt.

“That’s my shirt, isn’t it?”

“Umm…”

“...the hell you are doing wearing my clothes? How do you even have it?”

Nash emphasized every word as if talking to a child:

“It was bloody. You left it here for laundry.” A pause, then: “And it’s warm.”

Now Brant was visibly amused. “It’s too big for you.”

Nash shrugged, then pointed towards the couch.

“Come sit down.”

Brant did, close enough for their shoulders to touch. Nash didn't complain, being very amenable to the feel of Brant's muscular form against his body. Nash related Brant to feelings of containment and safety. And Brant's old shirt still had his scent, which was why Nash wore it.

They did not talk much that night. Being in each other’s vicinity was enough. They watched a cliche-ridden action film on TV, had a few drinks and eventually passed out on the couch. In the morning, Brant woke up to Nash bringing him coffee. Black with two sugars. Exactly as Brant liked it.

Brant never asked his shirt back. And even if Nash sometimes found Brant's old shirts appearing in his closet, he never commented on it.


End file.
